


love is an echo

by atzxcv



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deaf Character, Family Dynamics, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Memories, Sign Language, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Soft Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29513892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atzxcv/pseuds/atzxcv
Summary: The last thing Phil ever completely heard was the sound of his own son’s voice.“It was never meant to be.”Phil loses his hearing during the first explosion of L'Manberg and has to learn exactly what that means.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	love is an echo

**Author's Note:**

> This is in great part based on my experiences with hearing loss. That being said, I haven’t been involved in an explosion on the same scale as L’Manberg, so some of my research about single event noise-induced hearing loss may not be correct. Regardless, this story (including my experience) is not a universal one - every person who experiences hearing loss of any kind has their own story. Be kind, please. 
> 
> Characters use sign language later in the fic. For clarity, I’ve marked this using italics in single quotation marks, which I hope will help it be distinct enough from thoughts, memories, The Voices, and emphasis. (Reading that back, that’s… a lot. But with context, I hope it'll be alright.) In addition, I know that ASL grammar doesn’t work the same as spoken English. That being said, I haven’t learned enough ASL to successfully write a fic with complete ASL grammar. I encourage each of you to learn to sign, then come help me integrate it into my fics. 
> 
> TLDR; I haven’t been involved in an explosion, learn sign language.
> 
> _Title from Hearing by Sleeping at Last._

_ “What are you doing?” _

He stood behind Wilbur, forcing down the tears that welled in his throat even as his gut tightened with fear for what his son was about to do. 

Wilbur turned slowly, eyes wide and glassy, looking through Phil. “Have you heard the song on the walls, Phil? Have you heard the song? I was just saying that there  _ was _ a place where men could go, but it’s not there anymore.”

“It  _ is  _ there,” Phil approached slowly, hands in front of him as though he was approaching a wild animal. “You’ve just won it back.” 

“ _ Phil _ ,” Wilbur cried. “ _ Dad _ , I’m always  _ so close _ to pressing this button, Dad. I have been here seven, eight times, I’ve been here. Oh, they’re going to come here, I can’t-” He cut himself off, shoving Phil to the side as he closed off the entryway, muttering under his breath. 

“And you want to blow it all up?” Phil’s voice cracked. This was his  _ son.  _ His  _ boy. _

“I do,” Will replied coolly, like he wasn’t proposing the destruction of the nation he had started. The nation he had fought for. The nation he had  _ died  _ for. 

“You fought so hard to get this land back.” Phil took a deep breath. Maybe there was a chance to reason with him. 

“I don’t even know if it works anymore!” Wilbur crowed, throwing his head back with a loud laugh. It was a broken, unnatural laugh, one that sent chills into Phil’s very core. “I could press it, and it might-” He cut himself off with more laughter, doubling over again, shaking with that same maniacal laugh. 

“Do you really want to take that risk?” 

“There was a saying, Phil, by a traitor.” The two locked eyes. Wilbur’s eyes were still wide and empty, tears streaming down his cheeks even as he smiled too widely.

**_“It was never meant to be.”_ **

And without hesitation, he slammed his hand onto the button. 

“NO!” Philza roared, leaping forward, wings propelling him forward. Time seemed to slow. He watched Wilbur salute silently, sinking down to his knees with a maniacal grin, even as the chaos began to roar around him. As the first blocks shattered behind him, Phil impacted Wilbur, wrapping his wings around the two of them. He screamed, the explosions burning away at his wings even as Wilbur shook in his arms. His ears rung with the impact, the sounds sharp against the side of his head. 

After a minute, an hour, a second - neither of them knew - the explosions stopped, the ground shuddering to a halt. Phil unwrapped his wings, choking out a pained gasp as the singed flesh moved. He tucked them behind himself, arms still wrapped around Wilbur.

Only then did he look up. His jaw dropped at the sight, TNT still exploding in the distance even as the wails of the citizens of L’Manberg began to rise towards the skies. 

“Wil,” he said, shaking the boy by his shoulders. “It’s all gone.” 

The broken laughter continued. “MY L’MANBERG, PHIL. MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED.” He doubled over, groaning as the pain and mirth twisted together in his chest, making him something else. Something terrible. His eyes hardened, brutally so, a distorted contrast against his smile. “If I can’t have this, no one can.” 

“Oh my god,” Phil whispered, chest aching with the realization that he no longer recognized his own son. 

“Kill me, Phil.”

Phil jolted, praying to whatever might be listening that he wasn’t hearing those words from Wilbur’s mouth. He prayed for voices like Techno’s, that he was hallucinating, that it was anyone else. He hoped for terrible things, things he would never repeat or wish upon anyone else. 

“Phil, kill me. Dad, kill me. Stab me with the sword. Murder me.” 

He didn’t truly  _ hear _ the words, as much as he felt them. They echoed through the cavern, the vibrations of Wilbur’s words running up his arms. Phil felt a sword being shoved into his chest, unable to look away from his son. His hands wrapped automatically around the handle, the warrior’s instinct taking over even as his mind screamed for him to throw away the blade, to run, to wrap his son in a hug and never let go. 

“KILLZA! KILLZA! Come on. Do it. Murder me. Look, they all want you to. Dad, kill me. Dad, kill me.”

He watched his son’s mouth forming terrible words, praying that he was not seeing them correctly. “YOU’RE MY SON!” The words tore themselves from Phil’s throat, stinging with the stench of gunpowder that threatened to suffocate them. 

“Dad.” For the first time, Wilbur’s voice cracked. “Kill me.” 

“No matter what you do, I can’t.” Phil’s eyes watered, threatening to overrun.  _ Please. Don’t ask this of me, Wilbur. My son. Anything but this.  _

“Dad, this isn’t-” He cut himself off with a deep breath. “Look. Look how much work went into this, and it’s gone. Do it.” Wilbur lunged forward, practically mangled hands extended in claws. 

Phil’s body moved without his mind’s consent, lunging to the side and plunging the sword into Wilbur’s chest. 

_ Thank you, _ Wilbur mouthed, unable to fully form the words as his eyes closed. For the first time, his eyes were clear, even as they faded. He smiled, an upwards twitch of the corner of his mouth, as his eyes unfocused and he went limp in Philza’s arms. 

* * *

Techno laughed in the chaos below, reveling in the sheer insanity of the explosions. He shouted with delight as he launched rocket after rocket, running after the citizens of L’Manberg.

He stopped midcry, standing in the middle of what had been the festival, looking up at the hole in the cliff face.

He watched as Phil fell to his knees, Wilbur’s body in his arms. 

His brother. 

Wilbur.

_ “Wilbur!” _

_ Wilbur danced around the living room, humming a tune that Techno couldn’t begin to put a name to. “Come on, Techno, let’s go!”  _

_ “No,” Techno said simply. He sat on the couch, nose in a book of Greek mythology.  _

_ “Come ooooon,” Wilbur sighed with a half-laugh, stretching out the vowels, planting both hands on the back of the couch, right behind Techno.  _

_ “Not until you learn to keep wearing your armor, Wil.” Techno turned the page of his book, even as his mind swirled, barely focusing on the words in front of him.  _

_ “Yeah, but it’s uncomfortable,” the boy groaned.  _

_ “You know what else is uncomfortable? Getting killed,” Techno said drily.  _

_ Wilbur vaulted over the back of the couch, long legs draping over the armrest even as his head rested on Techno’s lap. The two sat in silence for a moment, Techno returning to the tales of old, Wilbur wondering if he could continue his argument.  _

_ “I’m not a warrior like you, Techno,” Wilbur whispered. “I’m not brave enough to fight like you do.” _

_ “Oh, you’re plenty brave, Wilbur. You have to be to pull some of the stupid shit you do.” Techno huffed out a quiet laugh. _

_ “I’m serious, Tech.” Wilbur’s eyes were hard, looking up directly into Techno’s. Feeling the shift, Techno closed his book and looked down at his brother.  _

_ “There’s all kinds of courage. You’ll find yours. Hell, I think you already have, it just looks nothing like mine.” Techno ran his fingers through Wilbur’s curls absentmindedly, scratching at his scalp.  _

_ Wilbur let out a happy hum, leaning into the touch, but his smile faded after a moment. “I don’t feel brave. I just feel scared.”  _

_ “It’s not a bad thing that your courage looks so different from mine - it means you’ll do greater things than I ever could. Besides, you’re my brother. I’ll always be there to protect you.” _

_ “Promise?” _

_ “I promise.” _

The cries of the citizens of L’Manberg jolted Techno back to the present. Phil’s wings were extended as he screamed. The silhouette of his wings, he noticed with a twist in his stomach, was unfamiliar. Broken. Burned. Phil cried out again, a truly terrifying cry, the agony and grief clear in his voice. 

_ Revenge, take revenge, they made Phil feel like this, they did this, destroy them for what they did.  _

Techno leapt away, rummaging through his bag in search of the wither skulls. “You think you’re a hero? Is that what this is?”

_ Kill them. Blood for the blood god. Kill them for what they did to Phil. For Wilbur. No mercy. Kill. Kill. _

“You just wanted power. But the thing about this world is, Tommy, is that good things don’t happen to heroes.” His hands were active as his mind was ablaze, anger coursing through his veins. He twisted his hands, carefully placing the blocks in preparation for what he knew was coming next. “Let me tell you a story.”

_ Story. Theseus. Destroy. Shame. Exile. Kill. Destroy them.  _

“The story of a man called Theseus. His country was in danger, and he sent himself forward into enemy lines. He slayed the Minotaur. He saved his city. And you know what they did to him, Tommy? They exiled him.” Techno carelessly shoved a lock of pink hair behind his ear, unaware of the shocked stares being sent in his direction. “He died in disgrace. That’s what happens to heroes, Tommy.”

“B-but he saved everyone,” stuttered Tubbo. 

“The Greeks knew the story,” Techno said, dismissing Tubbo with a wave of his hand. “But if you want to be a hero, Tommy, that’s fine.” 

_ Don’t do this, Techno, _ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Phil whispered, but it was overruled by the other voices screaming for blood. 

“You want to be a hero, Tommy? Then DIE LIKE ONE!”

* * *

It was only during his house arrest that Phil discovered the extent of the damage. There was the obvious injury of his wings, which he treated to the best of his ability. That was, in and of itself, a unique sort of pain. But the explosion had done too much damage, rending his wings useless. The house arrest was practically unnecessary; he was already a bird chained to the ground. 

But then, there was something else. 

A few days into his house arrest, having come to terms with the loss of flight (or as much as he could come to terms with it), he realized that all he could truly hear was the ringing in his ears. It wasn’t  _ complete _ deafness. He could still hear some things. But after years of relying on the keenness of his hearing as a matter of survival, only being able to hear the loudest of things, missing the small noises, felt like a fatal loss. 

He realized when he dropped a mug. Wilbur’s mug. 

It had been an honest mistake. He had been preparing a cup of tea, the warmth helping calm him even as he planned his escape. As he turned, kettle in hand, his elbow bumped the yellow mug, knocking it off the counter. There was a moment of confusion - had the mug vanished into thin air? - until Phil noticed the shattered ceramic on the floor below. 

It was confirmed later when the Butcher Army stopped by later, marking the true start to his house arrest. When the conversation first began, he squeezed his eyes shut, seeing if he could push down the ringing, doing everything he could to focus on the words that he was certain Quackity was saying. They probably thought he was unwilling to comply, or maybe they thought him to be insane. (Phil had to admit that killing one’s own son would do that to a man.)

Perhaps it was for the best. The loneliness of the house was suffocating, even without being able to truly  _ hear _ the silence. 

Besides, he had always known that his hearing would probably go at some point. He had seen it happen to enough of his comrades in the war against Herobrine - even a poorly timed creeper could destroy someone’s hearing. And given the sheer quantity of TNT he suspected Wilbur had used…

His stomach twisted with the thought of his son, his mind flashing back to blood-covered hands still clenched around a blade even as Wilbur fell, and the deep scarlet against his green sleeves. 

He shook himself out of the daze. 

Digging into the caves below was more terrifying than it usually was, considering that he could no longer hear the whispers of mobs or caverns. Even still, he was a warrior, an old hand. It was practically muscle memory. 

As he reached the surface, he breathed in the fresh air, relishing in his own freedom. He greeted Techno with a simple nod, knowing that the two of them would exchange real greetings once they made it to safety. 

More accurately, they first needed to establish a method of communication. Somehow, Techno’s rumble was easier to understand than Quackity’s higher-pitched cries. Even still, Phil would miss words. Phil was also finding that he was less comfortable speaking - it sounded like he was hearing his own voice underwater, which was a profoundly strange experience. Between the occasional missed word and the sheer focus it took him to stay engaged in a conversation, it was soon evident that they needed something new. 

He and Techno fell into a quiet routine. Even so, the silence that often filled their home was a different one. It wasn’t the suffocating silence of the place where Phil was under house arrest - he refused to call it a home of any kind. It was comfortable, wrapping around Phil like a comfortable hug. 

It was strange to admit, but Techno did understand. Maybe not entirely, but it was enough. Phil knew that Techno had gone blind many years ago - he assumed it was from the battle against Dream, but Techno never brought it up and Phil didn’t need to ask. It wasn’t exactly the same, but Techno knew what it was to lose a tool - because that’s what their senses were to them. They were warriors, wielding their senses with more power and more precision than any sword. 

A few days after Phil’s arrival, Techno presented him with a book of sign language (which Phil suspected was stolen from a nearby village). Over the course of days, weeks, they developed their own language - based on the signs in the book, but with their own modifications. The sign for  _ ‘Techno’ _ was the letter T, tapped against one temple which whatever hand was free - usually the left, since both men used their swords with their right.  _ ‘Phil’  _ became the letter P, tapped against the opposite shoulder, as if gesturing to an invisible wing. Soon, the two had a language of their own, built for them and no one else. 

It brought them together, closer than they had ever been. The two shared an incomparable bond, one that allowed them to help each other in a way that no one else could. Despite that, there was a strange tension in the house for a few days. Phil couldn’t quite figure out why, but Techno seemed to be keeping himself more isolated than usual. Even though he knew Techno was more than capable of taking care of himself, he couldn’t help but worry. Techno was probably just worried about him, he reasoned - which could be easily confirmed by Techno’s presence on every hunting trip Phil took. 

This wasn’t to say that Phil was helpless by himself. Over time, he learned how to hunt in new ways. He discovered how iron golems shook the ground ever so slightly when he walked. He learned to feel the slightest shift in the air when an enderman teleported, the rumble in his chest when a zombie growled. Soon, he could see the particles when a mob spawned nearby, reflexes sharpening to give him enough time to react. 

Perhaps it was true, that his other senses got stronger after losing one. 

Of course, Phil preferred to use those super-senses (or “main character powers”, as Techno referred to them) for much more simple purposes. 

_ ‘Do you remember your tea?’  _ Phil signed one morning. 

_ ‘What?’  _ Techno replied with one hand, eyes still bleary with sleep. 

_ ‘Your tea,’ _ Phil repeated.  _ ‘You know, from when you were younger.’  _

He saw the moment that the realization struck in Techno’s eyes.  _ ‘The tea!’  _ he signed excitedly, face illuminated with joy. 

Phil could feel his laughter rumbling through the air, just like it did when he was younger.  _ ‘I’m going to make a batch today.’ _

Techno grinned, his smile infectious.  _ ‘Thank you.’ _

He waved off his thanks, mirroring Techno’s grin.  _ ‘It’ll be good for both of us.’ _

Phil spent the day carefully weighing out the dried herbs, carefully preserved. Some of them were his own, from before they had moved onto the SMP. Some of them were newer - he suspected maintained by Techno, since none of his other sons had the same patience for farming that Techno did. The thought of Technoblade, the Blood God, carefully tying and drying out herb bundles brought a soft smile to his face. 

The mixture was a familiar one. It was one that he had started testing so many years ago-

_ Phil sat awake at the table, hands wrapped around a warm mug. It was a late night, one of many, his thoughts swirling. Chat was louder than normal today, howling in concern for the boy who slept upstairs.  _

_ Or so he thought. Techno tumbled down the stairs, hand clutching the side of his head, knuckles white as the base of his hand pressed against one eye.  _

_ “Whoa, Techno, are you okay?” Phil stood quickly, chair almost tipping over behind him.  _

_ The boy only growled in response. He practically collapsed at the table, the wood creaking beneath his weight _

_ Phil returned to his chair, pushing his warm mug towards Techno. “Do you want to talk about it?” _

_ Techno removed his hand from his face to grasp the cup. For the first time, Phil realized how young he looked, even under the fatigue that seemed to have etched itself into his face. “It’s nothing.” _

_ “It’s not nothing if it bothers you.” _

_ Techno paused in the middle of drinking deeply, having not even glanced at what was in the cup. That in and of itself was proof of his trust in Phil - a vast change from the scared youth he had been when he first arrived. He set down the cup with a quiet thud, looking hard into the grain of the table. “No one’s ever told me that before.” He looked shocked for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe he had just admitted that aloud, before his face returned to its neutral state, blocking off the emotions. _

_ Phil’s heart broke for him, eyes softening. “That doesn’t make it any less true. I want you to feel safe.” _

_ Techno sighed deeply. “I hear voices, Phil,” he whispered, his fear and tension carved into the tightness of his shoulders. “They say all sorts of things. Terrible things, mostly.” _

_ “Oh, Techno,” Phil sighed. He had struggled enough with the Chat; he had always hoped that Techno would never know quite what it felt like. He paused for a moment, trying to find the words even as his Chat continued to melt over Techno. “You know, I’ve got them too.” _

_ Techno’s head snapped up, looking at Phil intently. “You- you do? I’m not insane?”  _

_ “Well, I’m not sure I’m the best measure of sanity,” Phil said with a little laugh. “But you’re not alone. I call mine Chat, since all they do is chatter.”  _

_ “How do you deal with it?” Techno asked, eyes blazing with some emotion - something between sorrow and eagerness and anxiety - that Phil couldn’t name.  _

_ “You’ll find your own ways over time. Responding to the Chat can help them calm down, but sometimes it sets them off. That’s a careful balance you’ll learn over time as well. They keep me up every now and then, but it just means a bit more time for me to work. Back in the war, they helped keep me awake during watch. Music helps, sometimes.” _

_ “B- but what if that doesn’t work? What then?” Techno asked, voice now filled with only anxiety. “I feel like I might go mad.”  _

_ “I make a cup of tea, and I write it down.” Phil pointed at the mug that rested between them. “Has that helped?”  _

_ Techno paused, peering at the mug. “It… has. What’s in that?”  _

_ “My own blend. We can work it, if you like. FInd something that works better for your Chat. I’ve been meaning to make more anyways.” _

_ “I’d like that,” said Techno, unusually bashful. “Thank you, Phil.” _

Phil was brought out of his memory-driven haze by Techno, suddenly a grown man, tapping the counter next to him. 

_ ‘How’s it going?’  _ he asked, with no sign of the bashfulness Phil had remembered so vividly. 

_ ‘Pretty well. Looks like you’ve got everything.’ _

It had taken so many sleepless nights to find the tea that worked for Techno. He could remember their conversations over countless cups of tea. 

Lavender, for relaxation, and for the scent which always lingered in the morning. Chamomile, to help Techno relax (and sleep, if he was lucky). It also helped relax the muscles and reduce inflammation, for the nights when they released their aggression in the nether. Ginger to help an unsteady stomach, when the horrific images grew too vivid. A touch of lemongrass to relieve pain, but not too much, since Techno hated the taste. Rosehip, to add a touch of a beautiful pink. It was finished off with peppermint, for a crisp aftertaste, washing away the taste of nightmarish blood. 

“Techno,” he voiced. The other man stomped the ground, alerting Phil to his location at the table. Turning, Phil held up some of the bottles of the loose-leaf tea blend, shaking them slightly. “Want some now?” 

Techno nodded, standing as if reaching for the kettle. Phil waved him away, already filling up the kettle with water and setting it on the stove. Techno instead turned to one of the chests in the living room, digging through it for a moment before returning to the table. 

Phil set down two mugs, including the one that he knew was Techno’s favorite - a large black mug with a number of constellations along the sides, the carvings worn down from so many late nights. 

_ ‘I have something for you,’  _ Techno said, his usually confident signs small and anxious. 

_ ‘What?’  _ Phil quirked his brow. 

Techno set a small device on the table. It was netherite, the precious metal the size of a playing dice, with glowstone powder pressed into delicate etchings.  _ ‘I haven’t been able to test it yet, but I think it should help you hear.’ _

_ ‘Are you serious?’  _ Phil signed, expression unreadable. 

_ ‘Yes,’  _ Techno said, expression somber.  _ ‘You don’t have to wear it - I don’t expect you to. But if things get bad, if we have to fight, I want you to have every tool at your disposal. You only have one canon life, Phil, and I can’t-’ _

Phil cut him off, standing from the table and wrapping his arms around Techno. He squeezed the boy tight, trying to push all the emotions he could never put into words into the gesture. Techno leaned in gently, as if he was afraid that Phil might push him away. 

_ ‘It also has an added perk,’  _ Techno added as Phil pulled away.  __

_ ‘Oh? What is it?’ _

Techno produced a nearly identical device.  _ ‘I have one too. Yours will work by itself, but we’ll always be able to talk to each other - within a certain distance, of course, but it should be enough.’ _

Phil’s laughter echoed through the house as he leaned his head against Techno’s shoulder, eyes closing with a satisfied smile. 

* * *

Phil’s mind was abuzz as soon as Techno gave him the news. 

_ ‘Things have gone very bad, Phil.’  _ Techno signed rapidly, hands still shaking slightly. 

Phil laughed loudly - it wasn’t much of a surprise, considering that they had snuck into enemy territory.  _ ‘Where’s Tommy?’  _

_ ‘Tommy’s gone. Not coming back. Terrible person.’ _

Without further ado, Techno ran towards Dream, presumably to plan something to address the previous statement. Phil’s mind swirled, wondering what that could possibly mean. He watched as the two made their way around the base, reading the occasional word from their lips.  _ Destroy. Plan. Withers. L’Manberg. Tomorrow.  _

_ ‘That looked fun,’ _ Phil signed as Dream ran off. Techno heaved a sigh as he watched the masked man run away. 

_ ‘There’s gonna be chaos, Phil,’ _ Techno responded, hands low, as if he was afraid of Dream seeing.  _ ‘But Tommy knows about the dogs. My secret army. He switched sides.’ _

_ ‘Wait,’ _ Phil signed, touching Techno’s arm to make sure he had his full attention.  _ ‘He’s on their side?’ _

_ ‘He switched sides like a terrible-’ _ Techno cut himself off in the middle of the phrase, flapping his hands momentarily.  _ ‘He took my axe. Good thing you didn’t give him your trident.’  _

_ ‘But why?’ _

_ ‘He’s like, you know what, I haven’t been betrayed by this government enough, I’m just gonna switch sides. Totally betray the one guy who stood by him, because I’m a foolish child.’  _ Techno puffed his chest out exaggeratedly, head bobbing from side to side in the worst possible caricature of Tommy. Phil’s shoulders shook with laughter.  _ ‘This is why you’re my only friend, Phil.’ _

The night that followed was a restless one, to say the least. 

That statement might be a touch overdramatic, considering how often the two found themselves sitting together late at night, each haunted by their own nightmares. Regardless, by some silent mutual agreement, Phil set the kettle on, brewing enough tea so that each of them could have a few mugs. 

But that night, rather than sitting at the kitchen table, they sat on the couch. It was a worn thing, with memories pressed into the cushions. Techno, in true Techno fashion, sat with his back against the armrest, legs tossed up over Phil’s. 

Phil tapped his legs, setting down his mug on a nearby table.  _ ‘Techno, we have to talk.’ _

_ ‘About what?’  _ Techno replied, slightly confused. 

_ ‘Techno, if I don’t make it through tomorrow’s fight-’ _

_ ‘Shut up,’  _ Techno signed immediately, cutting him off before he could finish the thought.  _ ‘Don’t talk like that.’ _

_ ‘I’m not talking, though. I’m signing,’  _ Phil shot back immediately. 

Techno’s laughter shook the couch, Phil’s joining him a heartbeat afterwards. For a moment, the anxiety in the air lifted.

_ ‘I am serious, though,’ _ Phil said as their laughter faded. 

_ ‘So am I. I don’t even know if I want you coming to this fight. I don’t want you to risk your life for my grudge.’ _

_ ‘I have my own grudge, Techno.’  _ Phil paused his signing to rub his hand along Techno’s leg, a comforting motion for both of them. 

_ ‘But it’s so dangerous. I can’t lose you, Phil, I can’t. Are you sure about this?’ _ Techno’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. 

_ ‘I am.’  _ Phil signed simply. There was nothing else to it.  _ ‘I love you, Techno.’ _

_ ‘If you’re gonna be sappy, at least have something good to say,’  _ Techno said, trying to push down his emotion with a stab at humor. 

Phil huffed out a laugh.  _ ‘Techno, I’m trying my best here. Not all of us are writers.’  _

_ ‘Whatever.’ _ Techno rolled his eyes, reminding Phil of the sarcastic teen he had been so many years ago.  _ ‘But if you’re going to go, then you better take this.’ _

Techno pushed a small leather pouch across the table. Phil opened it gently, pulling out a golden pendant on a leather necklace. The pendant was just smaller than the palm of his hand, glittering an otherworldly gold. Its emerald eyes glittered, hinting at a greater power shimmering just beneath the surface. 

_ ‘Techno, is this-’  _ Phil glanced up, almost crazed. 

_ ‘It is. The only one I’ve got right now, too, so take it.’ _ Techno’s eyes were serious, boring into Phil’s own. 

_ ‘I can’t,’  _ he said, pushing it towards Techno.

_ ‘You can. I can’t lose you, Phil. You’re the only one I have left,’ _ Techno replied, pushing it back.  _ ‘Besides, you’re the one who told me not to turn down a gift.’ _

_ ‘I did, didn’t I?’  _ Phil smiled, looping the leather necklace over his head and feeling the pendant settle at the center of his chest.  _ ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ _

_ ‘Shut the fuck up, old man.’ _

The next morning was a blur of activity and finalizing their preparations. It was time for a fight - they had already said everything that needed to be said. They fell into the familiar routine of preparation, Phil brewing potions while Techno prepared the last of his rockets. 

Phil practically fell over when he realized that Dream was standing in their entryway. The boy padded on impossibly silent feet, not even causing the floors to shift beneath him. 

_ ‘Good morning, P-H-I-L,’ _ he signed, long fingers spelling the letters quickly. It was a slightly different version of sign than the one that he and Techno used, but the signs were still recognizable. 

_ ‘Morning, Dream,’ _ he replied, signing slower than usual, in case Dream was still new and to pretend that he hadn’t just been scared out of his mind. Phil stomped the floor a couple times, shaking the house, yelling out, “Techno?”

Techno poked his head down the stairs. Upon seeing Dream, he immediately strode down, expression hardening. 

As the two began their discussion of the plan for the afternoon, Phil slipped in the redstone device Techno had fashioned for him. He rolled his neck back, shoulders rising up as his face scrunched slightly in discomfort, still not entirely used to the onslaught of sounds which had once been familiar to him. 

The first words he heard were Dream’s crow - “We’re going early!” 

Techno immediately burst into action, Phil following shortly after him. “Techno, I have 18 invis pots, what do you need more of?”

Dream’s head tilted curiously upon hearing Phil speak. He lifted his mask slightly, enough to expose one piercing green eye and his mouth. 

_ Freckles, _ Phil thought.  _ The great Dream has freckles.  _

“I have intel,” Dream said. He turned towards Phil, a question in his eyes. Phil smiled slightly, the barest of smirks - he could hear! - before realizing that he could now read Dream’s lips as well. It was certainly an intentional move on the masked man’s part. Phil nodded his thanks, Dream mirroring it with a slow nod. “There’s a spy amongst them. They’ll be showing up right at 3, so as long as we get there before then, it’s an easy victory.”

“Easy,” Techno echoed absentmindedly, rummaging through the chests. “Dream, what do you need from me?” 

“I can’t set up redstone without them destroying it. I need you to give me 20 minutes. Stall them. You’ll be against 20 people for 20 minutes.”

“I feel like the risk is a bit one-sided here,” Techno complained. “I’ll be down here, 1v20, and you’ll just be up there chilling.”

“I mean, you do have withers,” Dream said, sounding unusually bashful. 

“I’ll do it, I just want to complain a little bit,” Techno said with a chuckle.

“It’s unreasonable, but to be fair, you’ve done this before.”

“1v20,” groaned Techno. “I need potions. Phil - speed, strength, regen. The long ones, since it’s  _ 20 minutes _ .” Techno turned, aiming the last few words at Dream, who wheezed out a laugh. 

“Pearls,” added Dream. “You need pearls on pearls on pearls. I say at least five stacks.”

Techno sighed as he walked down to the villager stands, pausing for a moment over the hole that used to be Tommy’s. In a sudden burst, he placed down TNT, letting it explode as he scrambled back. “I’m leaving the past behind me.” 

The explosion rocked the house. Techno’s chaotic laughter echoed through in its wake, followed by Dream’s teakettle wheeze. Phil couldn’t help but laugh along with them. 

Phil and Dream waited by the entrance together, standing in what should have been an awkward silence. Instead, they both prepared mentally for what was about to happen. 

“Ready to go? Got your gapples?” Dream asked, checking his own bag. Knowing him, Phil suspected it consisted mostly of explosives.

As Techno climbed up from the basement, Phil wordlessly passed him his trident. 

“Trade you,” Techno said with a smile. He pressed a bag of soul sand into Phil’s right hand and a stack of wither skulls into his left. “When you see the signal, I need you to spawn withers. So many withers.”

Phil laughed, the adrenaline of the sheer power he held in his hands coursing through his veins. 

Techno sighed deeply. Phil could see his hands shaking, even though he tried to hide it. “Don’t risk your life, Phil. Not for this. Not for me.” 

They clasped their forearms together, pressing their foreheads together in a warrior’s bond. Phil closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through the anxiety that was starting to rise in his stomach. He felt Techno slip something into his bag and smiled, knowing his boy was still up to his tricks. 

“You can risk your life for me,” Dream said after a moment, breaking the silence. 

The shock of it caused a peal of laughter to burst from Phil’s chest. 

“This is gonna be great,” the green-clad warrior said with a grin. “The new age.” 

As they ran, making their way through the nether and into the sewers of L’Manberg, they chatted and joked, making the final touches to their plan. They laughed, shoving each other around even as they had to shush themselves. 

“It’s the power of friendship versus the government,” Techno said, muffling his laugh. 

“Really, though, I feel like I’m the only person who hasn’t betrayed you on this server,” Dream said absentmindedly. 

“It’s true,” replied Techno. “Everyone’s always like ‘oh, don’t team up with Dream,’ but I’m here like, ‘oh, but Dream is so kind to me all the time.’ Everyone else is like, ‘Technoblade, we need you to fight in a war, and then we will betray you immediately.’” 

Phil’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. 

“It’s because I’m not pretending to be your friend,” Dream wheezed. 

“Mutual interest,” Techno mumbled, mining through the wall where his dogs were hidden. 

“WHAT?” Dream practically screamed, pressing a hand to his mask. 

Phil’s laughter grew louder, even as he shushed Dream. 

“I have a few dogs,” Techno said simply. 

Phil fell to his knees, practically tackled by several dogs - most of which were almost as large as he was. He greeted them fondly, laughing. 

Techno cut through their leashes by the handful. They followed him as he ran, laughing with glee.

“Remember, Tech, we have to make sure we don’t spawn the withers while the dogs are in play,” Phil said, still breathless with laughter. 

“Are you splashing the dogs with invis?” Dream asked, watching the two of them with what looked like an almost fond smile. 

“And strength,” Techno laughed. 

He tossed a pearl out of the sewers, followed by a veritable army of dogs. They swirled around his legs, making it almost impossible to walk. Phil and Dream followed, stifling their laughter at the sight. Phil splashed down an invis potion for the two of them, catching some of the dogs. 

They stood outside L’Manberg, taking one last look at the place they were about to destroy. They stood in silence, considering the weight of the actions they were about to take. 

Dream sighed deeply. “I think I’m going to go ahead and get started. See that contraption up there?” 

Phil and Techno both craned their necks upwards, suddenly noticing the massive obsidian assembly in the sky. 

“Dream,” Techno said, almost expressionless. “What the fuck? I thought you were going to be at the sky limit.”

“No,” Dream said, a touch of condescension in his voice. He brushed a hand through dark gold hair. “The TNT would explode before it hit. Besides, what are they gonna do?” 

“I’ll be honest, I think you’ll be okay, since I didn’t even notice it until you pointed it out,” Techno replied. Dream wheezed, doubling over in laughter. 

He stood, brushing a hand under his mask. “I think this is where we part ways. Have fun,” he said with an almost maniacal smile. 

For a moment, Phil’s vision blurred, and he saw Wilbur standing before him in his last moments, before the barking of hundreds of dogs pulled him back out. 

“Best of luck to the best of you. This is the day we destroy everything.” With a sarcastic salute and a cocky grin, Dream leapt into the skies, pulling his eerie mask back down over his mouth. 

“See you soon, Techno,” Phil said with a smirk and a half-salute. 

“You know the signal. See you soon, Phil.” And with that, Techno surged forward, followed by a veritable army of dogs. 

Phil made his way into the trees nearby, finding a higher perspective.

“WHAT’S UP, IDIOTS? I’M IN YOUR HOUSE, I’M STEALING YOUR STUFF,” Techno bellowed, his voice echoing across the town. 

“NO YOU’RE NOT,” Tommy screamed back shilly. 

“I’m right outside L’Manberg, guys,” Techno said, voice teasing. Phil paused where he was, leaning against the tree trunk to laugh. 

“There’s 25 more minutes, no you’re not,” Tommy cried. 

“Bro, you think I’m going to WAIT? You think I’m going to sit here and-” Techno cut himself off. “You know what, Tommy, there  _ is _ 24 minutes. I’m not there right now. There’s no need to check. Take your time!”

Techno turned towards the treeline, where he knew Phil was hiding.  _ ‘Idiot,”  _ he signed, the motion large so it could be seen. He repeated the sign, hitting his forehead. 

“Stop it. Techno, where are you?” Tommy’s voice reappeared.

“I’m in L’Manberg.”

Phil simply couldn’t help himself. “Where do you think?” he crowed. 

“Philza Minecraft?” Tommy practically screamed. 

“That was my Philza Minecraft impression,” Techno yelled back, signing widely,  _ ‘ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?’ _ even as he laughed. Phil cackled. 

“W-w-wait, wait, wait, we have 20 more minutes,” Tommy stuttered, the fear clearly starting to set in. 

“YOU GOT NOTHING, TOMMY. YOU HAVE NOTHING,” Techno roared. 

“You said 30 minutes! You said it! You said 30 minutes!”

“OH NO, DID WE LIE?” Techno let out a bellowing laugh. 

“You think we’re going to be fair?” Phil cried from his spot. “You think we’re going to be fair? This is war, Tommy.”

“OH NO, I WASN’T HONORABLE ABOUT THE 1V30 THAT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN,” Techno bellowed, practically drowning out Phil’s cries. 

Phil could hear Tubbo and Tommy screaming - something about a sabotage, and a crater. He knew in his gut that Dream was responsible, smiling crookedly at the thought. 

“LET LOOSE THE HOUNDS!”

With that cry, Techno leapt into the fray of battle with a roar of anger, the dogs surging past him to attack all his foes. Phil clambered up on top of Punz’s house, bees swirling confusedly at his footsteps on the glass. He fired arrow after arrow from a distance, his laughter a constant rhythm under Techno’s melody of violence.

Suddenly, the sky exploded into black and red, followed shortly by Techno’s roar. “THE SIGNAL!”

“Here we go,” whispered Phil, placing a handful of soul stone and spawning four withers. He sprinted away, spawning three more as he ran. 

“NOT THE BEES!” Tubbo cried, voice threatening tears. 

“Not the bees,” Phil repeated mockingly. He continued to sprint, tossing down another invisibility potion, before realizing suddenly that he found himself at the place where he had been under house arrest. His mouth twisted into a vicious smile, and he spawned three more withers directly in front of it with a roar of victory. “IT’S NOT OVER YET!”

He retreated slightly, making his way up to a nearby platform. He took aim from the high ground, target after target falling beneath his arrows - a merciless sniper. The scent of soul sand lingered thick in the air, mixed with the explosions. It smelled of chaos. He laughed as the destruction unfolded beneath him. 

“L’Manberg,” he heard Tommy cry breathlessly. 

“PHIL, MEET ME,” Techno yelled in his ear, sounds of destruction evident in the background. 

“ON MY WAY,” he shouted as loudly as he could. 

He made his way through the chaos, narrowly dodging a few of the withers. He spotted Techno in one of the houses and ran, bursting through the door. 

They paused for a moment, both breathing heavily with the adrenaline of the fight, laughing at the chaos they had caused. Phil handed Techno a couple of invis pots, the bottles clinking together. He clapped him on the shoulder, sharing another smile, before they both broke out in a run, sprinting back towards the action. 

Phil leapt down into the catacombs, weaving through the battlefield. He baited the withers, keeping them close behind him as he danced through the thick of the chaos, placing TNT as he did, destruction in his wake. 

He pearled up into the sky, laughing in amazement at Dream’s redstone. 

“How much longer do we need to stall, Phil?” Techno’s voice rang in his ear, too far away to be heard over the explosions. 

“I think we’re good, mate,” Phil laughed, looking down from the sky. 

“LOOK AT YOUR COUNTRY FALL, TUBBO. LOOK AT IT FALL.” Techno’s cry echoed through the skies, his piglin history allowing him to bellow louder than any human. 

“This is what the government gets you,” Phil screamed down from the sky. He ran across the obsidian, positioning himself just above Techno and Tommy. He tapped on his earpiece, allowing the sound to feed in from Techno’s. 

“-had your chance, Tommy,” he heard Techno say. 

“Technoblade, listen to me. You didn’t have to do this, we could have compromised!” Tommy sounded shriller than usual, on the verge of tears. 

“You gave me no-”

Tommy cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “That’s the thing about the disks, Technoblade, is that they were for me. We could have had a government, you could have left us!”

“I don’t care about the disks, Tommy! I was upfront with you from the start. The government has to go.” Techno’s voice was hard, barely holding back so many weeks of frustration. 

“You’re selfish,” Tommy shot back. Phil’s stomach twisted.

“Selfish?” Techno’s voice began to rise. “You’ve used me from the start, Tommy! You’re wearing my helmet!” 

“Look at me, Technoblade,” Tommy snapped. “You said you hated the government. You said we were the ones who betrayed you. But you killed Tubo when JSchlatt said to. You’re the one who betrayed us.”

“You used me as a weapon!” Techno roared. “You never thought of me as a friend. You’ve just used me from the start. You just saw me as  _ the Blade _ .” His disgust for the title practically dropped from the words. “The Blade. A weapon. Well, guess what? I’m choosing what I fight for now. And I’m going to  _ destroy your government. _ ” He fired a trio of rockets, the air exploding with red and black. 

“YOU WERE OUR FRIEND, TECHNO!” Tommy screamed, pain and panic in his voice. 

“You never thought of me as a friend,” Techno hissed. 

“Techno, listen to me,” Tommy begged. 

“I LISTENED TO YOU FOR WEEKS, TOMMY,” Techno yelled, drowning him out. “And you chose Tubbo. The guy that betrayed you. That exiled you.”

“People are above the government-”

“I’M A PERSON!” he roared. Phil knew his voice well enough to know that Techno was pushing down tears, pushing down the pain. 

“You’re selfish, Techno,” accused Tommy. 

“And you’re not?” Phil screamed from the skies. Tommy barely spared him a glance, and Phil felt something ugly growing in his chest. 

Techno looked up, seeing Phil above him, and his posture softened for a moment.  _ ‘It’s okay,’  _ he signed.  _ ‘I’ve got this.’ _ Turning back to Tommy, his posture closed itself off once again. “I believe in freedom, Tommy.”

“You killed Tubbo!” Tommy screamed, almost senselessly. “Don’t forget about the past right now, Techno. You killed him. Even when he wasn’t the president. You’re as bad as the government, Techno, you’re worse.” 

Phil could see the moment that Techno snapped, all semblance of patience shattering. “You remember when I was sitting there alone, against the whole government? And you and Wilbur just sat there to the side and  _ watched _ ,” Techno spat hatefully. “Did you step in? Were you guys the ones that stepped in and said, ‘Don’t worry, Technoblade. We know you’re in a high pressure situation, but we’ll fight the world for you, Technoblade.’ NO. You guys  _ watched _ . You know what I did? Yesterday, when you were surrounded by 30 people, the whole world against you? I walked in. I was willing to fight all of them for you, Tommy. I would have been there.  _ THAT _ is the difference between us.” 

“Techno, we spent hours together-” Tommy tried to cut in, but Techno was not letting up. 

“DON’T SPEAK TO ME OF LOYALTY!” Techno roared, lunging forward, slashing viciously. Phil watched both Tommy and Techno fall beneath his blade, chest settling in satisfaction. Techno leapt into the fray again, Phil shouting encouragement from above. Seeing a wither start following him, Phil nocked an arrow and took aim. 

“There’s more? TWO?” Phil heard Jack Manifold scream from below. He peered over the obsidian edge, seeing the other person running along the rooftops only a few blocks away. 

“Oh, you think there’s two?” Phil called down, almost sweetly. 

“Since when were you against the government, Phil?” Jack cried out, panting from the exertion of running from the withers. 

“Not a fan of government,” he laughed with glee. 

“Since when, Phil? Since when is this a Philza Minecraft thing?” 

“SINCE I WAS FORCED TO KILL MY OWN SON, YOU IDIOT!” He screamed, the cry scratching his throat. “WHEN DO YOU THINK? WHEN DO YOU THINK?” 

He let loose a barrage of arrows from the sky, eyes blurred slightly with unshed tears. He howled as they flew, tears finally falling. He tapped the netherite device in his ear, simply saying, “Going silent,” before he pulled it out and tucked it into his pocket. 

The world grew quiet, the destruction only slightly audible to him. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, feeling the explosions vibrate through the obsidian beneath him. As he did, Chat screeched, some thirsty for more blood and destruction, but some asking him  _ why _ . 

“It can’t work,” he whispered. “Government turns seemingly normal people into power-hungry twats, and now we’re just giving it an ol’ hit on the reset button. No more. No more, thanks.” 

Seemingly appeased, Chat quieted, layers upon layers of voices serving as white noise and drowning out the world around him. 

Phil stood, stretching. Pulling out his trident, he leapt to the iron structure above the obsidian grid. He sat, kicking his legs through the air, relishing the quiet after so much noise. He looked up at the stars - the only things left untouched in the wake of destruction he had helped cause. 

The iron vibrated slightly as Ghostbur appeared next to him, tears streaming down his face. 

_ ‘Hello, G-H-O-S-T-B-U-R’, _ he signed slowly, before repeating the phrase using their name for Ghostbur - the letter “G” rotated in front of one shoulder, like the sign for “blue”. He scrambled in his pocket for the netherite device for a moment, before Ghostbur’s motions stopped him. 

_ ‘Why did you blow up L’Manberg, Phil?’ _

The shock of Ghostbur signing was quickly overwhelmed. Phil was reminded in that exact moment how distinctly different Ghostbur was from Alivebur - and how much he had changed since Wilbur’s death. 

_ ‘We needed to send a message,’  _ he signed simply, keeping his motions slow and intentional. 

_ ‘You knew Friend was in your house.’ _ Ghostbur winced as the tears coursed down his cheek, wiping them away brusquely with the sleeve of his worn yellow sweater. 

_ ‘He’s got infinite canon lives,’ _ Phil replied, dismissing it with a wave of his hand following his words. 

_ ‘Stop, stop, stop.’  _ Wilbur sniffled, chest heaving with their weight.  _ ‘You knew Friend was in your house. You knew that everything everyone owned was in this town.’ _

_ ‘I did,’ _ Phil confirmed, not sure what else there was to say. 

_ ‘I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I don’t want to have to hear it. I read the history books, Phil. You slayed the dragon. You slayed Alivebur. You are the Saint George of the server, Phil, everyone understands that. But look what you’ve done. How can you look at this and still see yourself as a hero? Sending a message, Phil? Sending a message?’ _ His signs grew larger and larger as the trembling ghost grew more and more frantic, the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. 

_ ‘Yep. Not to start another government. Not to take genuinely good, wholehearted people and turn them against each other with corruption and power. That’s why, Wil. I don’t want to see it happen again.’ _ The word  _ again _ hovered between the two of them, an indescribable presence. 

_ ‘So you make me suffer.’ _ Ghostbur practically glowed with the grief that dripped from his words.  _ ‘I don’t know what Alivebur did, and I’m really trying to remember, but I just broke blocks. I built lanterns, I built a house with you, I set up this town just like I built Logstedshire, and I watched them both blow up.’ _ Phil raised his hands, trying to respond, but the ghost charged ahead, uncaring.  _ ‘I didn’t hurt anyone, yet I’m the one who pays. Tommy didn’t even live here. He didn’t even have a house here. I sowed the seeds of peace, and yet, I’m the one who pays for war. I know I’m forgetful, I know I’m an amnesiac, and I know I’m the comic relief in all of your stories. But I feel this.’ _ He paused, taking a deep breath.  _ ‘And I try my best to make sure no one else feels this.’ _

_ ‘I’m sorry. Maybe you’ll understand someday.’ _ Phil took a deep breath, hands trembling.  _ ‘Goodbye, Wil.’ _

With no further words, Ghostbur vanished, leaving behind the vibrations of stifled sobs. 

Phil leaned back against the nearby pillar, the coolness of the iron seeping through the thin cloth of his robe, chilling him after the heat of battle. Chat continued to whisper in his mind, a strange undercurrent of voices asking  _ why, why, why _ . 

“I did the right thing,” he said aloud, his voice sounding not like his own. “100%. Things, buildings, they come and go. They can be replaced. People can’t be replaced. I’m not losing anyone else. I’m not losing anyone else. Not to this bullshit.” He repeated the words, a half-heard mantra against the rhythm of his heart. 

“Goodbye, Wil,” he whispered again, face upturned towards the sky. For just a moment, he could have sworn he heard the echoes of Wilbur’s laughter before it faded, leaving behind a sense of peace. 

He stood with a heavy groan, joints complaining after the battle combined with age. The sky mirrored his groan, thunder rumbling gently as the rain began to fall. He leapt towards the ground, extending his wings and letting the wind comb through his feathers. Trident in one hand, he landed gently next to Techno. 

_ ‘Hey,’ _ Techno greeted him.  _ ‘Ready to head home?’ _

_ ‘Yeah,’  _ Phil said.  _ ‘Let’s go home.’ _

The journey home felt shorter than usual, filled with jokes and laughter. Phil practically collapsed in relief upon their arrival, slouching down onto one of the kitchen chairs. 

_ ‘Tea?’ _ Techno asked.  _ ‘And get out of that armor,’ _ he added, peeling off his own as he signed. 

Phil groaned, waving Techno away even as he stood to remove the pieces of netherite, muscles screaming in complaint. He vaguely registered Techno wandering around the house, putting away armor and axes and setting the kettle onto boil. As soon as the armor was off, he flopped back onto the couch, stretching out sore muscles. 

He didn’t know how long it was before he found himself surrendering to sleep, his usual keen awareness of his surroundings fading into peaceful nothingness. He was jostled awake some indeterminate amount of time later by the realization that he was moving. Blinking sleepily, he looked up to see Techno, pink hair pulled back in a loose braid, revealing a sharp jawline and a gentle smile. 

As if sensing his gaze, Techno glanced down at him, smile softening even more. Phil realized with another blink of sleepy surprise that the man was  _ carrying _ him. 

_ ‘It wasn’t that long ago that I was carrying you to bed,’  _ he signed, motions small, arms curled against his chest. 

“Old man,” Techno rumbled. 

_ ‘Not that old,’ _ Phil protested, even as his eyes fluttered shut again. 

The last thing he remembered was Techno’s gentle laughter shaking him gently before he fell into a peaceful rest. 

* * *

In the wake of battle, each of them recovered in their own way. 

Techno threw himself into farming, quickly developing novel methods for potato harvesting. At first, the nearby villagers were hesitant to trust him, knowing his reputation, but they soon began to seek him out. He towered over many of them, but Phil smiled from a distance as he watched Techno kneel before a child, gently handing them a golden apple and a large sack of potatoes. 

It also became a common sight to see Techno writing in the evening, filling journal after journal with countless words, layering on top of each other. Phil often found him scribbling in the dark, having lost track of time. No one truly knew what he was writing - Phil had a theory that he was writing the stories of the battles he’d fought and the people who had died. Techno knew better than most that a soul wasn’t truly gone until there was no one left to speak their name. 

Phil, on the other hand, found himself waking up in the early morning, gazing out the window. Chat was quietest in the mornings, only hints of words whispering through his consciousness. It soon became a habit of slipping down the stairs to make some tea, padding on the quietest of feet. He watched the sun rise, sipping on a cup of tea.

Sometimes, his thoughts got the better of them. Techno once found him with his forehead pressed against the glass of the window, mug abandoned, with tears streaming silently down his face. He had quickly wrapped the older man in a hug, holding him tightly, looking around as if threatening the world. 

It was one such morning that he noticed a figure standing in their front yard, hands wringing in front of him. He watched as the figure turned side to side, gesturing in small motions, the nervousness clear in his hunched posture even from a distance. 

A smile spread across his face, and he tucked Techno’s netherite device (which had gone vastly unused since the battle) into his pocket. 

Wrapping his green robe tighter around himself, he walked out the front door, making sure to be louder than usual in his movements, so he didn’t startle Ranboo. 

_ ‘Hello,’ _ Ranboo signed as he approached, hands trembling.  _ ‘How are you?’ _

_ ‘Good,’ _ Phil said with a small smile.  _ ‘How did you learn how to sign?’ _

_ ‘I learned,’  _ Ranboo said, ducking his head. His long fingers, usually twisting in anxiety, were elegant and smooth in sign.  _ ‘For you.’ _

Phil’s heart warmed at the sight of the lanky boy standing in front of him. For a heartbeat, he saw long pink hair before he blinked, Ranboo’s heterochromatic eyes reappearing in front of him. 

_ ‘Ranboo, do you have a place to live?’ _

Techno adjusted surprisingly well to Ranboo’s presence in the Arctic, watching with an impenetrable gaze as the half-enderman began constructing a small shack behind their house. 

_ ‘What are you thinking?’  _ Phil signed, gently pressing his arm against Techno’s. 

_ ‘I can’t believe you picked up another one,’ _ Techno huffed. 

_ ‘What was I supposed to do, leave him out there?’ _

_ ‘You could never. I’m well aware of that.’ _

Over time, Ranboo slowly began to open up, blossoming before their eyes. Ranboo was an excellent storyteller, as Phil soon learned. He threw himself into stories, using his entire body to embody characters as his hands danced through the signs. 

At first, he wasn’t sure how many of the boy’s stories were true. Perhaps Ranboo didn’t either, given his poor memory. But eventually, he learned that there was a seed of truth in each one, a tiny piece of Ranboo’s past gifted in each one.

Phil began to find a strange comfort in Ranboo. It was only after about a week that he realized what it was. 

Ranboo didn’t make eye contact with him. 

Ranboo’s enderman half made it so that he didn’t like making eye contact with others. He often forced himself to, especially with Techno, as a sign of respect, but never did with Phil. It eased Phil’s nerves - since he was often looking at signs and reading lips, he rarely made eye contact either. 

Or maybe that was simply the speculation of an old man, as much as he hated to admit it. Regardless, Ranboo quickly became a part of their little family. It wasn’t a replacement for Tommy or Wilbur - nothing could fill the hole in Phil’s heart that belonged resolutely to them - but it was another type of companionship that warmed his heart. 

It was strange. 

The world was so different from the way it had been. Phil still found himself looking out the window for Wilbur and Tommy. He occasionally startled when Techno came down the stairs, expecting the angsty, perfectionist teen he had raised rather than the battle-worn scholar. The world was strangely quiet, quieter than it had ever been before. 

And yet, it was exactly the same. The mornings were still quiet, peaceful, a place where Phil could be himself, and that was enough. His tea still warmed him from the inside out, and he watched Techno hide a small smile in his mug. They shared pieces of themselves little by little in stories and words, Techno learning things about Phil he had never known, and vice versa. Ranboo slowly entrusted himself to them. Techno still fell asleep on the couch, book lying open on his chest, legs entangled with Ranboo’s. The house still shook with laughter, smiles threatening to burst from their chest, and it was in that instant that Phil  _ knew _ . 

People were messy and complicated. They were full of contradictions, and often made no sense. Life would always find a way to throw things that he could never anticipate. But that fluidity, that paradoxical existence, that quixotic optimism made it so they were always open to change. An insurmountable challenge might be easily achievable after a good night’s rest. Things that were scary one day could seem comforting the next day. 

This wasn’t to say that things were easy. Change would always be difficult, especially when it came at such a painful price. But they would grow together, regardless of whether they were deaf or hearing, whatever “sides” they were on, whatever life tossed their way. They would navigate the complexities of the world together. 

As a family. 

**Author's Note:**

> I also have big thoughts about how Dream and Wilbur/Ghostbur learned sign, as well as Ranboo. Perhaps more chapters to come?
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed - I love interacting with readers!


End file.
